


Pelvic Armor

by Vanamiya



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Dubious Consent, Frottage, Just to be safe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, if not then good luck on your search, if you're looking for some simple Megastar porn you found it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9092626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanamiya/pseuds/Vanamiya
Summary: “What's wrong, Starscream? I know you can do better than that.”
Smug. The tone was so smug. Starscream had a scathing remark at the tip of his glossa but disabled his vocalizer before it could leave his intake. He did not want to end up on a medical slab tonight, so all the noise he made was static.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Have you ever looked at Megatron's pelvic armor? It looks kinky okay. So I wrote this. I mean I could also work on my more meaningful stuff but you know. I wanted to write robot porn. So I did.

“What's wrong, Starscream? I know you can do better than that.”  
  
Smug. The tone was so smug. Starscream had a scathing remark at the tip of his glossa but disabled his vocalizer before it could leave his intake. He did not want to end up on a medical slab tonight, so all the noise he made was static.  
  
The cables in his thighs ached with strain. Straddling Megatron's enormous hips was never a particularly comfortable endeavor. And now that son of a glitch even had the audacity to keep his pelvic armor firmly in place, telling Starscream to “coax it into retracting”.  
  
First he got Starscream all hot and bothered – against his initial will, one might add – then this.  
  
Starscream huffed, sending steady streams of air through his cooling systems while he worked. His own pelvic armor, if it could even be called that, was long gone. Spike and valve were both out in the open for Megatron's viewing pleasure while he ground against the thick plates keeping him from the prize. If only Megatron would push his damn spike into him, frag him into a state between the Pits and an emergency shut down and be done with it. But that would be too simple, wouldn't it?  
  
Back and forward his hips went, valve pressing firmly against the armor. When the soft mesh caught on a sharp edge, Starscream flinched, a soft, whimpering noise escaping before he had time to catch it. His thighs trembled. Even with the generous amount of lubricant covering Megatron's pelvic array by now, it was clear the that outer armor was not made for interfacing and the rims of the plating dug uncomfortably into his most delicate place.  
  
“Lord Megatron, please, I-”  
  
“Hush, Starscream. Not one word.”  
  
He had tried begging already just to be ignored. But what else could he do? He was desperate for the stretching sensation and the relentless onslaught on his deepest nodes. Only the mere thought made his calipers cycle, even if there was nothing to hold on to. Frustration and desire bled into his field while he let it wash over Megatron. A silent type of begging that went unanswered just like the vocal pleas before. Megatron had his field tightly wound around his own frame so Starscream could get nothing from the other mech, no charge, no signals, no nothing. He didn't even know if this managed to arouse Megatron or not.  
  
Out of other options, Starscream picked up his pace. His valve made quite obscene noises as it slid over the slick metal surface but he had stopped caring. The only thing that mattered was giving his outer node some friction, hopefully enough to get him off. If Megatron wanted to play this game, fine, he was nothing if not resourceful. He kept his movements small but quick, avoiding the edges so he wouldn't have a sliced up valve at the end of this session. He didn't always manage though, so the low hum of his fans was occasionally swallowed by repressed pained sounds. He refused to make any other noises. He definitely wouldn't moan like a wanton pleasure bot now if this uncomfortable activity barely gave him any pleasure to begin with.  
  
Megatron was watching him, two blazing red optics that were almost unbearable in their intensity. No matter how many million years this was already continuing, Starscream would never get used to them. He loved being the center of attention but he feared being the center of Megatron's attention. His every move scrutinized and judged. A shiver spread in his frame and it wasn't the good kind.  
  
No. Focus. He didn't care what Megatron wanted. He only cared what **he** wanted and **he** wanted an overload so he could leave, take a shower and lave Megatron right there to take care of himself for all he cared.  
  
As his efforts started to bear fruit, the charge rising with each grind against the plates, Starscream betrayed himself by letting the shortest strained moan past his derma. He searched Megatron for a reaction but found none. His spark whirred in fury and indignation. How dare Megatron do this to him. How dare he.  
  
The anger, strangely enough, fed into his charge, as if his frame had pity on him and decided to speed things up. Slide, grind, more friction, more anger. He hated Megatron so much but oh how he yearned for that spike right now...  
  
“Starscream-”  
That was enough. The charge reached its peak and he gasped as he felt it overload his systems. It wasn't amazing, nothing like the overloads Megatron could coax from him when he was in the mood but it did manage to quell the frustration that had plagued him until now.  
  
He opened his optics – when had he closed them? - and stared right into a very displeased faceplate. Oh please no.  
  
“I don't believe I gave you permission to overload on your own. Or did I, Starscream?”  
  
The words reached right into his spark, squeezing any leftover heat from it. Recharging at the medbay it was. Knockout was going to laugh at him, he already knew it.  
  
“N-no, you didn't, master.”  
  
“So what are you waiting for?” Megatron reached out, grabbing Starscream's faceplate roughly before forcing the tip of the thumb into his intake. “Clean the mess you made.”  
  
It was unmistakable what Megatron meant. Starscream dared to glance downwards. Both lubricants and transfluid were staining Megatron's plating now. He should have known that this had been a bad idea. There was nothing to be done about it now however, so he accepted the punishment, lest he make it worse. He licked the thumb in his intake submissively until it was retracted and he could actually start his work.  
  
One day. One day he would have his revenge. For this and every other humiliation as well.


End file.
